


Pancakes

by theproletariatdontdeservecake



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: F/M, Ravnica, gatewatch, i don't actually like cinnamon in my pancakes, writing Chandra is fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 09:41:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14668397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theproletariatdontdeservecake/pseuds/theproletariatdontdeservecake
Summary: Chandra goes downstairs to get breakfast and finds a little more than she was looking for.





	Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> I believe you can read this as a standalone, even if it's meant to depict events that take place in the middle of [another, longer story I'm in the middle of writing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14853143/chapters/34384463), (specifically after [this chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14853143/chapters/34405830)).

I sniff the air as I lumber down the stairs. Butter and cinnamon. Mmm. Someone’s making breakfast.

A voice like honey drifts happily from the kitchen. I feel like I’ve heard the tune before but I’m pretty sure it’s meant to be a dirge—not that music was ever my forte.

I ruffle my hair and yawn as I reach the landing, look into the kitchen, and freeze.

_Liliana?!_

I feel my eyes grow wide. She doesn’t see me; she’s too busy between the stove and the countertop, sprinkling spices into a bowl and frying little cakes in a pan. They look a tasty shade of golden-brown.

I rub the sleep out of my eyes. This can’t be right. Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming.

She ladles more batter into the pan, singing wordlessly as she does.

I’m not dreaming. And now I’m _sure_ that’s a dirge.

This is a little too freaky and it’s a little too early in the morning. I back up slowly, tiptoeing my way backwards up the stairs, right into a wall of muscle.

“Morni—” I throw my hand over Gideon’s mouth before he makes too much noise. For all his muscle, his lips are surprisingly soft.

I raise a finger to mine and then point towards the kitchen.

He understands and quietly squats down to peek. He’s so huge, it’s comical, like a bear sneaking around. A big, cuddly, muscular bear who looks and smells _amazing_ even if he’s just rolled out of bed and _oh crap he’s looking at me and I’m staring._

 _Liliana?_ he mouths at me.

I nod and he stoops down to look again. I try not to look at his butt. Not very hard, but I try.

When he comes back up, he looks confused. “ _She’s singing?_ ” he whispers.

“and _cooking_!” I whisper-shout. I can’t believe it either.

We tiptoe down the stairs again, squatting to get a better look through the bannister.

Most meals, Lili arrives just as the cooking finishes and leaves just before the dishes need to be washed. Figure of speech, obviously. Jace won’t keep full time servants but he does have staff for that sort of thing—perks of being the Guildpact, I guess (where _are_ the cooks, anyway?)—the point is, sometimes she just shows up, grabs a plate, and walks off without saying anything. But here she is, sun barely out, making _pancakes_? She doesn’t even live here!

Jace walks in the front door looking glum (has he been out all night?) and we freeze, trying to make ourselves as small as we can against the stairs. I’m not sure why, though. We’re not technically doing anything wrong. If anything, Lili’s the one being weird.

He sees her and walks right past us. I realize I’ve been holding my breath.

“Lili?” He looks surprised to see her. He eyes the kitchen in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

She pouts. “What, am I not allowed to make breakfast?”

_You’re allowed to make breakfast, you beautiful tease, that’s not what he’s asking and you know it!_

“No, I just… I mean, I woke up and you were gone and I thought…”

Wait, what?

 “You thought I didn’t believe you.” Liliana says. She sets the bowl down.

“I thought you’d changed your mind.” Jace says.

I’m not sure what they’re talking about but she’s smiling at him as she walks around the table to him. Like, _actually_ smiling. It looks… warm. And genuine… and loving and caring and tender, and a whole bunch of other things I _know_ Lili is not.

She goes to him and puts her arms around his neck.

“I did.” she says.

WHAT IS GOING ON.

His arms are around her waist…

HANG ON.

…and they kiss.

OH, MY GODS.

I can’t look at this. I shouldn’t. But I can’t not look at it either. It’s wrong. It’s wrong. It’s WRONG. I won’t. I won’t. I’m not. I’m not. _I’m really not._

OH, MY GODS, THEY’RE STILL KISSING.

I shouldn’t be watching this. I mean, I guess it’s sweet and Jace looks so happy, and I guess I’m happy they’re happy. I mean, I _am_ happy they’re happy, but… it’s wrong. It’s wrong somehow, and I can’t explain it and it’s wrong and watching them is wrong and I can’t stop slapping Gids on the arm like he’s not here watching it with me but he is and his eyes have gone wide but his expression is stoic and WHY AM I THE ONLY ONE FREAKING OUT ABOUT THIS LILIANA MADE PANCAKES AND NOW SHE’S KISSING JACE IN THE KITCHEN AND I’M LOSING MY MIND AND OH MY GODS THEY’RE STILL AT IT AND NOW THERE’S FLOUR IN JACE’S HAIR AND THEY’VE KNOCKED OVER THE CINNAMON AND WHAT’S THAT SMELL OHH THE PANCAKES NOO THE PANCAKES ARE BURNING OHH NOOOOOOOOOO

**Author's Note:**

> If it still isn't obvious, I want Jace and Liliana to end up together. I have [a grand idea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14853143/chapters/34384463) for how that's going to make sense but I don't know how to write it so it's short enough to read as a one-shot. I never feel like I do the story enough justice and, before I know it, I'm eight chapters and 12 thousand words in (and counting) because I feel the need to properly answer the how, the when, and the why.
> 
> It doesn't help that I get sidetracked by ideas for stories like this, which I imagine take place in between what should be major plot points.
> 
> And by pancake cravings.


End file.
